But the other

11 June, 2009 09:34:00

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Day I was passing a certain gate rain fell as it will.

E.E.Cummings

And

thought to myself death

and will You with

elaborate fingers possibly touch.

The pink hollyhock existence whose

pansy eyes look from morning till

night into the street

unchangingly the always.

Old lady sitting in her

gentle window like

a reminiscence

partaken.

Softly at whose gate smile

always the chosen

flowers of reminding.

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